Faces
by Sins of Angels
Summary: He could still see her face, even after everything was over. And it was because of him.


He still saw her face. When his mouth dropped open, he could see her face. When he looked around in disbelief, in fear, he still saw her face. When she turned away, when she was out of sight, her face still burned in his eyes, etched into memory.

He just stood there, still, mouth slacked open. Staring. Every speck of paint looked like her face, the darkness of the tower making it seem even more like the look her eyes had when they locked with his. Why did he do it? Why did he think it was a good idea? Why did he still see her face, in everything, in everywhere?

Why couldn't he move from this spot?

The long winding rope of hair was so close to him, he almost reached out for it. Even to him, even now, it was like a security blanket. He stared accusingly at his body as it completely failed to move. He knew he was hurt, yes, he knew it was dark now and he knew that the thing that could always save him was no longer there. It was brown and dark and dead.

Like her.

Like her face.

He didn't know how it happened. Or when. There were bright lights everywhere and he suddenly wasn't in that depressing place, the last little bit of sunlight hitting him softly. It illuminated the grass, the brown hair, the stone of the tower and, with the last few rays that shone through, the cloak. Gold inside, deep blue outside. Sitting in the dust. Like it was dropped out the window. Like it never had a person in it.

Like it never tried to hide her face.

Her face as she reached out.

Her face as he tripped her.

And now, in horror, another face was added. This time, it was Rapunzel's. This time, it wasn't the fear, or the shock, or the desperation. This time it was sadness. This time, it was mourning.

This time, it was his fault.

Both times, it was his doing.

Both faces burned into his memory.

A horrible thought occured to him, and he jumped at the chance to get Rapunzel's attention again. It would be three hours before she would respond to any of his antics, be it clinging on to her newly short hair, or desperately holding on to the fabric of her dress as Max galloped towards the kingdom, bringing her to her parents. The horse stopped a little before the bridge, and Flynn (or Eugene?) had asked for a moment with the white steed. This was his chance. This was when he found out. He climbed up to her shoulder and pressed the top of his head to the bottom of her jaw gently. She finally looked at him. Right at him.

He didn't want to say it anymore. He didn't want to ask.

If she hated him, he didn't want to know.

"I don't hate you," she said quietly. She could always read his mind, even if he hadn't changed colors. He sighed with his entire small body in relief. He could feel himself go back to his comfortable green from the nerveous yellow he had been just a second ago. "I know it was an accident. I know you didn't mean for her to fall out the window." She sighed too. "But I'm still sad, a little. And I'm still mad at everything, at her, at myself, at Eugene, at life, at the world..." She paused as she looked down. "At you." He curled into a ball, bringing his tail in around himself as if it was protecting him from this. "But I'll be fine. We'll be fine, Pascal. I promise. I just need to think about it for a while." She stared right into his eyes, stared him down and repeated, "I promise, Pascal." He nodded, slowly. Time. She didn't hate him, but she needed time.

He slid off her shoulder as she mounted the horse again with Eugene. Carefully, the chameleon slid into the basket that was swinging around his best friend's elbow. He felt the cloth beneath him gently, before he looked down. It was blue. A gold trim.

He could see her face.

He moved over to the scarf wrapped around the food, and buried himself between that and the side of the basket, away from the cloak stuffed next to it. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes. And there it was.

Gothel's face. The cloak vanishing over the edge of the window pane. Rapunzel reaching out just as the woman who raised her reached in, to grab something and keep herself inside. And then Rapunzel, picking up the cloak. Quiet. Slow. Grieving.

And finally, Rapunzel's face again. As she promised. She had smiled, a little. Staring him down. Saying she promised that they'd be alright. With time.

With a smile. 


End file.
